


Bad Timing

by panchostokes (badwolfrun)



Series: Prompt Fics [50]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Episode: s05e24-25 Grave Danger, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:35:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22428706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfrun/pseuds/panchostokes
Summary: Jack has something to tell Nick, and Nick needs to sleep.
Relationships: Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016)/Nick Stokes
Series: Prompt Fics [50]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540795
Comments: 14
Kudos: 13





	Bad Timing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deltajackdalton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltajackdalton/gifts).



> delta, thanks for the prompts, and for your help on brainstorming and bringing the muse(s) back to me 💜💙💜 this fic might go down as one of my fav fics I've ever written

It was sometimes a bit…unsettling for Jack, walking into Nick’s house and seeing his face on another man’s head, a man with different mannerisms, a different hair style, a different demeanor. Different enough that he was usually able to detach himself from, well, himself and think of Nick not as some sort of twin, some sort of doppelganger, but rather as a completely separate entity, a different man entirely. 

But there were some times that he would see something in Nick that just resonated with him, showed him that maybe they were more alike than they thought, beyond the physical resemblance. 

It was a darkness he had seen before, in himself and in the eyes of other men who had been tossed into a horrific world of explosions and burials, trapped in a claustrophobic whirlwind of dirt and sand. 

But they were trained–no, not just trained,  _ conditioned _ for that world.

Nick wasn’t.

It all couldn’t have happened at a worse time. Not that there wasn’t any  _ good  _ time to be kidnapped and buried alive, but it happened while Jack was away on a long mission, only to return to find his partner in the hospital instead of the comfort of his own home, and the cherry on top of this cocktail of tragedy would be the orders given to him by the CIA, that he would have to relocate to Los Angeles within a month’s time…

Which was now only a week away, and he hadn’t quite figured out how to break the news to Nick. 

_ Tonight is the night,  _ he told himself as he walked up to the door, gulping down the dread that flowed through his bloodstream as he pictured the devastation on Nick’s face. This would have been a hell of a lot easier, if Nick hadn’t expressed his newfound fear of abandonment after he had described to Jack the nightmare he endured in which everyone had just…left him in the hole–which was in fact, based on reality, as Jack was told every painstaking detail of the rescue, demanded by him during an impromptu interrogation of Nick’s CSI team. Warrick was the one who admitted with tremendous guilt that they were ordered out of the hole, only for Grissom to crawl in to bring Nick back to the living, waking world. 

But he couldn’t hold it against them, any of them, not really. 

There was a  _ freaking bomb  _ under the box, after all.

He lifted his fist, the end of the sleeve to his leather jacket balled up in his fingers and knocked on the door, the other fingers flexing nervously around the customary, condensing six pack of beer in his other hand. Any other friend, he simply would have walked right through the door, but regardless of how strong of a bond he had with the man, nobody walked into Nick Stokes’ house uninvited without dire consequences. 

He felt a buzz in his pocket, frowned as he dug out his phone, praying that it wasn’t The Hun telling him he had to scram, and was instead surprised to find that it was Nick himself.

_ Key under pot in bush. Open door. Lock behind. _

Jack quickly located the spare key, let himself in and followed his instructions, completely perplexed because Nick’s car was in the driveway, and he was fully aware that Jack was coming. He did sound a little weary on the phone, but had mentioned he was having trouble readjusting to his work schedule after his time off. 

“Nicky, babe, you home?” Jack called out as he set the beer on Nick’s counter. The lights were on, the TV in the living room was on, but Nick was nowhere in sight. As Jack peeled off his jacket and opened a beer to ease his rising wave of nerves, his ears perked as he heard a faint groan, followed by a whimper coming from Nick’s bedroom.

“Nick?  _ Oh… _ ” Jack sighed as he crossed the threshold and saw Nick’s limbs tangled in a blanket, his face crinkled with discomfort, dark bags under his forcefully shut eyes. 

“My back,” Nick gulped with quivering lips. “It just…it hurts.” 

He twisted and stretched and contracted into himself, writhing in the blankets like a worm on the ground, and Jack’s heart fell between his feet and melted into the carpet underneath the soles of his shoes, his heart fluttered rapidly inside his rib cage. 

“I’m so tired,” Nick whined, his eyes shined with dampness. “I can’t-can’t sleep, too bright.”

“Why don’t we turn off some lights, then–” Jack reached for the light switch, but Nick held a hand out to stop him. 

“No! Too dark…” Nick muttered. He huffed short bursts of air as he fought against the blankets, but his struggle only deepened his entanglement, and he pounded his fists on the bed in frustration. 

“Hey, now…” Jack kicked off his shoes and swooped on top of the bed in one motion. He gently unwrapped Nick from the blankets, carefully, delicately as Nick seemed to twitch uncontrollably at the brushing sensation of Jack’s fingers on his bare skin–he was stripped down to his underwear. 

“A-and ‘s too hot!” Nick continued to complain, his voice high and tight. Jack placed his hand on the man’s cheek, warm to the touch, his skin drenched in sweat. 

“Why don’t we turn the A/C on?” 

“The…the  _ noise.” _

Nick had told Jack how there was a fan in the box, the source of air that kept him alive for nearly twenty four hours.

Jack shuddered to think that if it weren’t for that, Nick wouldn’t have lasted more than two hours.

“We gotta get you some earplugs, dawg,” He smiled sadly. Jack stroked his thumb on Nick’s cheek as he turned to reach for the water resting on the bedside table. He guided the water to Nick’s lips, he took a long sip, his lips puckered out for more as Jack removed it so that he could breathe. 

“Got any bubblegum?” Nick asked with a small smirk teasing his lips, an inside joke (though it wasn’t really a  _ joke  _ at all, not to Nick) that was lost on Jack. Instead, he pulled Nick into a side embrace, massaged his shoulders. Nick groaned, but it was a pleasurable groan, his head nuzzled under Jack’s chin. 

“You want me to rub your back until you fall asleep?” Jack whispered. 

“Mmm…don’t wanna sleep though…y’had somethin’ ta tell me,” Nick drawled with his accent as heavy as their weight on Nick’s delicate sheets. 

“It can wait,” Jack shrugged off.  _ It really can’t, Dalton, you stupid jackass. Don’t toy with the man’s emotions like this!  _ “When’s the last time you got a full night’s sleep anyway?”

Nick fell silent, his eyebrows wriggling in deep thought. 

“Don’t know.” 

“See? Besides, I am a man of many talents,” Jack kept massaging Nick’s shoulders and arms as he manhandled him gently to lay his body flat on the bed. He cleared his throat and threw on a recently acquired imitation of a French accent, as low and seductive as he growled,  _ “Jack Dalton, masseur extraordinaire.”  _

“Oh, is that right?” Nick laughed as Jack pinned his arms to his sides. 

“You still got that oil laying around?” Jack asked, his hands had moved down to the back of Nick’s calves as he moved them together. 

“Bathroom,” Nick yawned, though turned his head almost a full minute later, having sensed that Jack hadn’t moved. He turned his head back, saw Jack with his hands still gripping the back of Nick’s legs, his mouth gaped open, eyes transfixed on Nick’s exposed ass. 

“Jack?” Nick raised his eyebrows.

“Hmm?” 

“Think you can make it to the bathroom?” Nick teased, and Jack shook his head dramatically with a blubbery sound effect, emulating a cartoon character. 

“Sorry, hoss, just got...a lil’...distracted,” Jack breathed as he patted a hand on Nick’s left butt cheek and removed himself off the bed. He grabbed his beer and finished it on his way out of the room.

“Hey, get me one, too!” Nick called out, in reference to the clattering of beer bottles as Jack opened a fresh one.

“Nuh-uh, Stokes. You’re all sorts of dehydrated. Beer’s gonna just make it worse!” Jack grunted as he took off his shirt, tossing it onto Nick’s couch before fetching the oil from Nick’s bathroom.

“You’re so mean!” Nick called out as Jack laughed with his reflection in the bathroom mirror, ignoring the plea in the reflection’s eyes to stop leading Nick on, rip off the band-aid, tell him the bad news before it gets worse.

And he would.

Just not tonight. 

“Yeah, well, you’ll thank me when your legs aren’t cramping like a mother...” Jack’s voice trailed off as he re-entered the bedroom, Nick had rolled himself over, propped up on his elbows, one leg crossed over the other, concealing his now fully exposed dick, as his boxers had landed on the other side of the room. “...fucker.” 

“Can’t sleep anyway,” Nick shrugged, one eyebrow cocked, his tongue poking out between his lips. 

“Cute,” Jack smiled as he brought the beer to his lips, his other hand guided his pants--and underpants--off of his hips, sliding down his legs and falling to the ground. “But I’d rather you fall asleep during a massage than fall asleep during sex.”

“You sayin’ you’d wear me down that easy? Cause I am not--” Nick sat up, but Jack just lunged onto the bed, pushed him back down with a gentle hand to his chest. His fingers gently circled around Nick’s nipples, waving over the almost-faded bumps of the ant bites that disfigured his body. Jack spied the tube of ointment cream he had covered on Nick’s body the last time he was over, still lying on the nightstand. 

_ They-they got through my clothes, Jack!  _ Nick’s voice cried out in the ripples of an echo which would haunt Jack for a long time. 

“Hush, now, darlin’, and let Jackie boy work his magic,” Jack soothed Nick as he ceased his petting of Nick’s torso to once again flip him on his stomach. Nick sighed deeply through his nose as Jack lathered his hands in the massage oil, and then began smooth his hands into Nick’s skin in circling motions, starting with the back of his neck. He worked his way down, kneading out the sticky sweat into a smooth, slick skin that glistened in the yellow glow of the bedroom lamps. 

He reached Nick’s lower back, spread his hands to wrap around Nick’s waist and paused. Nick remained motionless as Jack inhaled a slow, deep breath in effort to get Nick to do the same, but Nick, as always, was impatient. 

“Why’d ya stop there?” he whined. 

“Patience, young Padawan,” Jack threw on his best Obi-Wan Kenobi impression as his hands moved from Nick’s waist to his ass cheeks, juggling them in the palms of his hands. “And you’re supposed to be  _ sleeping.”  _

“And  _ you’re  _ s’pposed to be giving me a  _ back  _ massage,” Nick muttered with a smirk. 

“What can I say, I am an ass man.” 

“Tha’s my...line…” Nick moaned as Jack released the two cheeks and began to work his way back up Nick’s back. “Oh... _ Ohhhhh,  _ Jack…”

Jack reached his neck again, and paused, searching for signs of a sleeping state, but he should have known, that never came so easy with Nick. 

“More...please…” Nick pleaded. Jack lowered himself and kissed the back of Nick’s neck before he worked his way down again, this time, going past Nick’s waist, past his butt cheeks, and began to massage his legs. 

“They...were like pins and needles, man. The whole time.” 

“I bet,” Jack whispered with sympathy. 

“And my...my feet...felt like they...were on fire...with the...you know…” Nick’s voice was getting slower, more distant. 

“That sounds terrible,” Jack nodded, he began to ramble on, hoped that Nick’s fading voice meant that he was falling asleep. “Though I gotta say...I am a little curious as to what being burned alive would feel like. It’s on my bucket list, in fact.”

“You’re a madman, Jack Dalton,” Nick laughed wearily as Jack worked his way back up, once again, pausing with his hands on Nick’s waist. He leaned forward, once again kissing Nick’s neck before began to shower his back with kisses. 

“A madman that loves you,” Jack whispered in his ear. 

_ Oh, dammit, Dalton, now, why’d you have to go and say something like that? Quit playin’ games with his heart! _

“I...love you too...Jack,” Nick’s body shuddered in pleasure as Jack’s lips started to spend more time on Nick’s skin with each kiss. He brought the massage turned kissing fest to a halt, rolled himself over, but this time, with Jack, too--Jack landed on his back and Nick sat up, straddling Jack’s lap as he began to stroke Jack’s penis. 

“Nicky, baby, I think it’s way past your bedtime,” Jack protested, but Nick placed a finger to Jack’s lips, before leaning in to suck on his neck. 

“And I toldja, I can’t sleep anyway. This...this-is-what-I- _ really- _ want…” Nick growled as licked his way up to Jack’s ear lobe, gently tugging at it with his teeth. It was Jack’s turn to moan as Nick sat back up, and returned to his tending of Jack’s hardening cock. 

“All sleep and no play make Nicky a dull boy,” Nick pouted. 

“Dude, you  _ really  _ need to sleep,” Jack laughed, but his laugh got cut off as it hitched in a whimper, as Nick ceased his stroking right at the worst time.

_ Bad timing is a theme of the night, apparently.  _

“Niiiiiiiiick!” Jack protested as Nick reached over for Jack’s unfinished beer, savoring it and Jack’s struggle as Nick had pinned his wrists together with his free hand, preventing Jack from finishing the job himself. “You little shit!” 

“Just gimme a second, I’m enjoying this.” 

“NICK!” Jack hollered, his face red as Nick laughed. 

“Alright, alright! Hold your horses there, Tex. Suck or tug?” 

“Don’t-care-just-fuckin’-do-somethin’!” Jack huffed. 

“Tug it is!” Nick grinned fiercely, arching his back so that he was positioned over Jack, but still able to maneuver the man’s hardened dick with one hand as he held himself up with another. He began to pull, and Jack’s body jerked with it, his frustration fading into a pleasured relief as the back of his head fell deeper into the pillow behind it. The supporting arm that held Nick up gave way as Jack felt the release of fluids that most definitely seeped between Nick’s fingers. Nick had collapsed on top of Jack, and Jack felt like he was in an oven, having been sandwiched between the sweaty, oily, warm body of Nick Stokes and the retention of body heat in the mattress beneath him. 

“Goddamn, Nicky that...that was  _ incredible!”  _ Jack sighed with delight.

Nick didn’t make any sound, or movement for that matter, though Jack could still feel the rise and fall of Nick’s chest against his own.

“Nick?”

He craned his neck to get confirmation, Nick’s eyes were indeed closed, his mouth hanging open, a small pool of drool spilling out onto Jack’s neck. Jack shifted himself, wrapped his arms around Nick and smiled as he closed his eyes, too, and set sail into his own dreamland of a much needed rest. 

Though a few minutes that Jack hoped was actually hours later, Nick stirred, crashing them both back into reality as sharp breathe cut through their bodies, and split them apart.

“Jack...my leg…’s cramped…” Nick complained as his leg uncontrollably contracted, colliding into Jack’s own.

“I fucking told you, you goof…” Jack muttered as he rolled off the side of the bed, sitting on the edge as he gathered his bearings. “Lemme get you a glass of water.”

“I don’t deserve you.” 

Jack paused to look back at Nick, his arms adorably wrapped around a pillow in Jack’s absence, though he was just within arm’s reach. He suddenly had the urge to call the CIA, call Matilda Webber and tell her to stick it where the sun don’t shine, so that he could stay here, in Las Vegas, with Nick,  _ forever.  _

He wasn’t a believer in destiny, per se, but he knew that he couldn’t be here forever. That Nick wouldn’t be here forever. That  _ they  _ shouldn’t be together... _ forever.  _

“No, Nick. I don’t deserve  _ you,”  _ Jack whispered as he waved his fingers through Nick’s hair, grateful that the man’s eyes were closed so that he wouldn’t see the single tear streaming down his cheek.


End file.
